


The Friday Box

by Leela



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Hanukkah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-26 22:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, when no one was watching, Severus Snape went into a windowless room and performed a private ritual taught to him by his Grandma Snape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Friday Box

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Hanukah 2009.
> 
>  **Beta** : batdina
> 
>  **A/N** : I've always been fascinated by the rituals of the Conversos (sometimes called Marranos). This is one possible way that Hanukah could happen in the HP world.

Life, his Grandma Snape had always told him, was bound by the moon and by the seasons. She taught Severus how to celebrate the coming and going of each season, and how to count the cycles of the moon to determine when to hold the private ceremonies. She held his hand as he lit his first candle and asked him to hold her hand as she lit her last.

Friday nights were their special nights. Not every week, because predictability increased the risk of exposure, but according to a complex algorithm kept in the Family Book. There were also other nights, decreed by the seasons and the cycles, but he could only visit if they weren't school nights — or if his father was enjoying a particularly bad time.

Severus stayed at Grandma Snape's on those nights, sleeping in a tiny room at the back of her two-up, two-down terrace house.

"Shoes and socks off, Severus, and take my hand," she said and then she led him down the rickety stairs to the damp cellar. Barefoot, unspeaking, they moved as quietly as they could. At the bottom, grandma went over to the cupboard behind the coal bin while Severus held the cloth-covered Muggle torch so she could see.

The Friday box was made of pine, plain and unadorned. It was long, narrow, and deep, and lined with smoke-blackened tin and ceramic to protect the wood. It had three compartments. The smaller one was kept full of candles. The larger held the candlesticks. And the one in the middle, with the pinprick holes, was for lighting. The key was hidden in the false back of Grandma Snape's cameo necklace.

The festival of lights was Severus's favourite. That ritual required the most candles: one to start, eight to finish, and one to guard them all. The candles were lit in silence, although the unspoken words of the ritual pressed against the backs of his eyelids, forcing him to hold a hand over his eyes to keep them in.

Afterwards, they closed the lid and tiptoed back upstairs where Grandma Snape fed Severus potato pancakes and jammy balls and chocolate. And when he was full, she'd leave him in the kitchen with a new book she'd bought just for him and go back downstairs to hide everything away until the next time.

~*~

"Wherever you live, make sure it has a room without windows," Grandma Snape had taught him. "With a door that locks securely. It will be the centre of your home, something to be cherished and protected." He remembered that when he accepted Dumbledore's "invitation" to teach at Hogwarts.

"You think you're entitled to make demands?" Albus Dumbledore tapped a finger on the edge of the bowl of lemon drops.

Biting back a sarcastic comment, Severus attempted to keep his expression and his tone mild. "It's not a demand. If I am to be Potions Master and Head of Slytherin, it simply seems appropriate that I live in the dungeons."

"Quarters for teaching staff are typically located away from their classrooms. Most of our staff wishes to maintain a certain distance from the students. It provides at least the illusion of privacy."

"I am perfectly capable of ensuring my own privacy, should I wish it."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed and any semblance of friendliness disappeared. "I will not countenance any practicing of the Dark Arts in this school. The wards—"

Severus cut him off. "Reinforce or adjust the wards however you like. I have no intention of casting Dark spells in this school. I have foresworn the Dark Arts, as you well know."

"Then why the dungeons?" Dumbledore asked, once again tapping the bowl and making Severus wonder exactly what spell that movement triggered.

"Because—" Severus lifted his tea cup and then put it back down again, trying to give the impression of a man offering up a painful and personal truth "—because the dungeons were my home. They provided a... a refuge for me while I was at school. I cannot imagine living elsewhere in this castle."

"I see."

The truth was well hidden behind memories of Severus's schooldays when Dumbledore stared into Severus's eyes and pressed inwards. Legilimency, Severus noted. Not as delicate a touch as the Dark Lord, but reasonably effective, he was sure, against those who did not have sufficient talent in Occlumency.

Finally, Dumbledore looked away and tapped a different rhythm on the bowl. The sudden release of pressure made Severus's head swim and his ears pop.

"As you will," Dumbledore said, with a bare hint of graciousness. "The elves will prepare your new quarters while we eat lunch."

Severus inclined his head, averting his eyes to ensure that Dumbledore couldn't see his relief.

Later, when Severus stood in the centre of his windowless sitting room, he placed his hands flat on the wall next to the fireplace and focussed on the spell he'd discovered years ago in the 1725 edition of _Hogwarts: A History_. Within minutes a small, dark room was created, large enough for a box and two people.

When it was done, he moved the Friday box into its new home.

~*~

"Teach your children" was the hardest of his Grandma Snape's lessons. "It's your responsibility," she'd said, "to ensure that the old ways do not die. If you have none of your own, then you _must_ bring one into the family in some other way. Do not be the last of us."

He would have no children of his own; this much Severus knew by his mid-twenties. Both experience and inclination made that clear. He worried over that for years, contemplated taking her advice to adopt a child. But he couldn't persuade himself that it was right to bring a child into his life, controlled as it was by the Dark Mark on his arm, the Unbreakable Vow he'd made with Dumbledore, and the looming non-presence of the Dark Lord.

Still, it was incumbent upon him to ensure the old ways persisted. He began to watch the incoming first years, talking to the new Slytherins and identifying the ones who weren't bound by their own family traditions and rituals, those who needed light in the lives.

Over the years he was Head of Slytherin, he taught three children of his heart. He held their hands as they lit their first candles and, when they left Hogwarts, he gave them their own Friday box.

And he hoped that one of them or their children would be around to hold his hand as he lit his last candle.

~*~

In different houses, different cities, and different countries, three former Slytherins enter rooms without windows. They hold their children's hands as they teach them how to count the moon cycles, celebrate the seasons, and perform the rituals. And to remember the man who taught and protected them.

And each year, when the season comes for the festival of lights, they light candles and they sing in silence. They eat and they remember.

In Malfoy Manor, Draco holds Scorpius's hand as they walk down the stairs into a warded cellar. Scorpius casts _Lumos_ as Draco retrieves his special Friday box. Made of pine, plain and unadorned, it's long, narrow, and deep, and lined with smoke-blackened tin and ceramic to protect the wood.

When they're done, they go upstairs to the parlour to eat potato pancakes and jam balls. And they talk with the portrait of Severus Snape.

~fin~


End file.
